An unexpected game
by Sashaisadora
Summary: Panem wasn't the only place to survive the wars, droughts, floods and storms. England also survived and now they're finding out about Panem and the Hunger Games...
1. Prologue

Prologue

"_Panem, a nation bought together by the ashes of another_…" displayed on the screen was a circle which encased a bird opening its wings, with leaves climbing the sides. Somehow the bird reminded me of a dove, trying to show the freedom which was 'supposedly' given to the citizens of this new country. From what people had told me, I seriously doubted it. "_…together our ancestors built the civilisation we have today…" _replacing the emblem; clips of families and communities building houses, fishing, mining and smiling. All the clips looked old but were obviously fake, even the people in the shots were probably actors. "…_forging thirteen Districts and one Capitol which protected and loved them all…" _next came two children holding hands and smiling. One was dressed in lavish clothes that covered him in multitudes of colour and a broach engraved with the Capitol seal, the other was dressed in a grey-ish dress that covered most of her body and had a necklace which spelled 'District 8'.

At the back of the class, a shout came "Miss, what is this bullshit?!" Everyone wanted to hear what our teacher had to say because they were wondering the same thing; even I was thinking the same thing! She didn't answer but instead pointed back to the screen, indicating where our attention should be.

The voice had gone on to when the trouble started beginning, "_…war went on for many years. Unfortunately District 13 perished and 12 defeated," _like they were unhappy about that.

"_In penance of this war, and the reminder that this must never happen again, the Hunger Games were founded." _Hunger games? Was it some trial for food? I knew that was wrong though, why would you have trails for food after a war? It had to be about the war…maybe a punishment?

"_For punishment…" _knew it "…_in trying to eradicate the Capitol which loved them, each District must give two tributes, one male and one female between the ages of 12 to 18, to the Capitol. These tributes will be decided from a public reaping, where another can volunteer to take his or hers place. The tributes will then battle in an arena, until one lone victor remains…" _The rest of the video was about the prizes to be won, the joy in being a victor and how it was the highest of honours. I blocked it all out though.

'Battle' and 'until a lone victor remains', span inside of my head. At first I didn't get it. _They made you fight and whoever lost would go to prison…or something? _Finally it dawned on me what they were inferring, what they were meaning and I couldn't feel anything but disgust!

Disgust at how the Capitol did this. Disgust at how the children actually **kill **people. Disgust that their parents just let them walk to the reaping's.

The video finished. Silence was all that was to be heard.

Until Miss moved to the front of the classed and started talking, "So, I know this might b -"

"Miss, I don't understand," a girl called Macey interrupted her.

"About the games? Well basically -" Again she was interrupted, except this voice held the same disgust I felt.

"Basically a load of people are sent to kill each other! And it's made out to be some glorious competition, which is worth dying for!" The 'for' rang across the room, drilling into people's brain making them think of the ethics and humanity of it.

It was weird to think that a fortnight prior, we had just found out about this new country and now we were being told about an event which was held there, an event which was horrific and unimaginable. Miss somehow knew what we were feeling, probably because she felt the same thing.

"Look, I know this is hard to understand. I know that. But it's important that you do listen and learn from the next two weeks. It's_ very_ important," that's when I realised Miss had a look of sad despair on her face, like she was seeing us for the last time.

"Why?" I asked her. My voice cut through the silence, finally asking a question which would get to the answer of us being here and learning about 'the Hunger Games'. "Why is it important? Why do we need to learn about them?" Every one turned their stares towards me; suddenly realising I was asking the right questions.

"Well, this year it's mandatory to watch them…" she replies back to me but I catch how she fiddles with the ring on her finger.

"So? It doesn't mean we have to learn about them, we just have to know about them. They could just let us learn about the 'Hunger Games' by watching the approaching one," again everyone stares at me, knowing I've asked a question which was sub-consciously on their minds. I also know I've hit a cord with Miss.

"You have to learn about them because…" looking at all of us, she takes a breath "…because…this year two tributes will be reaped from England to participate in the games."

Silence. Silence. Silence. Then the screaming began.


	2. Chapter 1: Devious odds

Chapter 1: Devious Odds

The girl in the mirror wasn't me. Not once had I worn a black pencil skirt which started at my hip and ended at my knees. Neither had I worn a white blouse which was tightly tucked in and ironed within an inch of its life. My hair had been pulled into a tight bun, so tight that I found it impossible to move my forehead. Minimal make-up was splashed on my face, pearl earrings were perched on my lobes and stubby black heels with a little clasp had been shoved on to my feet. I looked like a business lady. Sharp and scary. Maybe that was the point.

After hearing about the reaping and how my name would be in the glass bubble of devious odds, I had been quite dispirited. I just didn't expect it. As England had a population of over a million children, the chances of getting them into one place and reaping them were nil, so the Game makers had to concoct another plan. This new plan meant, before the actual reaping 200 boys and 200 girls were randomly picked out of the million and they would go to the reaping. Guess who was chosen to be part of those 200 girls?

I gave myself one last glance over in the mirror and then walked out into the room I was sharing with my mother.

When I came into view, she said, "Marina, you look lovely, very professional. We want to give them a good impression…" then she realised what words had come out of her mouth "…not that you're going to be reaped!" I smiled at her, trying to reassure her and myself. But I knew it had crossed both of our minds.

I didn't think I would be picked for the 200 and then I was. What was stopping me from being reaped again? Nothing.

My mother came and hugged me, a warm embrace which held everything I needed to get through the next few hours. "When this is all over, we can go home and just sit in front of the T.V. and enjoy not being in this hotel room!" That sounded nice.

"I'm looking forward to it…" the 'it' of the sentence ended on a dead tone and seemed to expose my fears, fabricating an awkward ambience around the room. My mother held an uncanny ability of sensing these changes in atmospheric attitudes, so the transformation didn't go unnoticed. Taking my hand, she stared into my eyes.

"You're not going to get picked…you're not! This is what's going to happen, we're going to walk to Trafalgar square, you'll sign in, go and stand where you're meant to be and then two random children will be picked…not you, defiantly not you…then you and I…we'll go home…ok? That's what's going to happen…you hear me? That's what's going to happen…" Tears started to form in both our eyes but she kept eye contact with me. The intensity of her glare was astounding, like she was willing her words to be true; her eyes nailing and engraving the statement into the book of life.

"Ok? Don't cry, it'll ruin your make-up," and with that we packed our stuff, then left, waiting to see my fate.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Not once in my life had I experienced the glory that was London. After the 'changing', the events which killed off most of the world and destroyed the old ways of living, creating the new regime we lived in today, traveling wasn't on many people's minds. However that was years ago and New England had certainly been built up, although monuments which were affected by the 'changing' were kept unrestored as a remembrance of everything lost and a reminder that it couldn't happen again. But I could defiantly recognize the certain glimmer that possessed London.

When walking into Trafalgar square, a buzz of people and technology could defiantly be perceived, and though they stole my attention, they didn't keep it. All around me were statues and monuments; lions, a fountain and a rather large column, but that wasn't what transfixed me and piqued my attention. It was what had happened to them. Every statue contained a cluster of what looked like bullet holes and some had bits of stone blown out of them, making one lion decapitated. Questions of all sorts cruised across my concentration: what happened to them? Being the main one.

Then my mum spoke, reminding me of why I was here and made sweat start to form on my palms. "Now honey, I'm going to be over there," she pointed to the very back of the crowd, where most of the children parents had formed a sea of resilience to the cameras and a sombre attitude.

"After this is all over, meet me there and we'll get out of this place and go home."

"Ok mum," was the only thing I could mutter as nerves began to overtake.

"Right over there," she pointed at the spot again, I only nodded. "Ok then…I'll see you after this," she then kissed my forehead and walked away probably knowing I just wanted to get this done with.

Only watching her for a few seconds, I turned and walked to the destination which was marked for me. The signing in desk. Most of the, what I called 'reapers', were already standing in their allotted space. Only a few were queued in front of the desk which was placed in front of the fountain and 4 tired looking people dressed in white manned it. I joined the queue.

A few straggling reapers came in behind me, joining the queue which could lead them to their hell and then I was summoned to identify myself to the devil. The lady in white solemnly said "name?"

"Marina," I answered.

She looked up with an expression that included both boredom and annoyance, "_**full **_name."

"Marina Jasmin Johnson."

Looking through the files, I realised they were filled with names of the reapers. Fear then took me as I realised my name was in there to, just like it was in the glass bubble. She found my name and then wrote the time I arrived at.

"Location?"

"South-west of England, Cornwall."

"Specific please."

"Lands End…South-west of England, Cornwall, Lands End," I thought all of this would've been noted already but when looking at my details all I could see was my name, age and school I attended.

"Birthday?"

"July 23rd"

She scripted this perfectly into the files, in neat blocked letters.

"Proceed into the 4th section," was all she told me.

Not wanting to cause a commotion, I followed her brief instructions and walked to the section I was supposed to be penned into. Among me were at least 23 more 16 year old girls, all wearing the same expression which was pinned on my face, doubt and worry. Our section was a lot smaller compared with others, there were more 12 years olds and at least double that of 15 year olds. At the back of my mind I wished there had been more 18 year olds, because they would be more likely to be chosen than I would. Disgust followed the thought like a stench, for thinking about increasing the odds of someone else going.

I couldn't carry on with the disgust though because a rather lumpy looking lady walked out to the microphone that was on top of the stairs leading to the building behind. Ghastly, was the only word to describe what she was wearing. A wire frame had caged her body but only down to the bottom of her thighs, just covering the parts that need to be covered. Weaved in and out of these metal wires were pieces of bright coloured cloths, which made her look like a cage of colour or a messed up rainbow. Multi-coloured fabric was then wrapped around her legs, this secured her heels in, which were ridiculously high and looked like talons. Her hair was frizzy, eyelashes extended out at least 10cm and her skin was dyed a slight green. Realistically, I would've said all colours decided to just vomit on her.

She obviously didn't notice the stares she was getting because she just walked to the microphone and started with a _hem-um. _

"Hello, hey, gooooooood morning," something was wrong with a voice, a funny accent was all I could think to describe it "today," she lifted her hands in the air, to make sure we understood how important today was "two of you" her hands then moved in a sweeping side wards motion, highlighting all of us "will be picked for the great honour of representing your country in the 99th annual hunger games!" A smile wider than her face occurred.

"Isn't it exciting!?" No it wasn't, was beckoned to my tongue.

"But before this, a video was lovingly made for you in the capitol," her very energetic hands then swiped and pointed at the screen above her.

The video was the same to the one I had seen at school but with a few adjustments and quite a lot more propaganda.

After it was finished the lady came back to the microphone. "Wasn't that amazing?! Didn't you just get chills? Panem, a great nation is inviting _you_ to be part of our great events!" her voice suddenly went deep and dramatic "Remember what I'm about to do is historical, so be glad you are here to witness it! I know many who would kill for a chance to be here today…" she turned towards the camera "…yes I'm talking about you Ceaser!" I had no idea who she was talking about.

Then I realised she was about to pick the tributes and I would be allowed to go back home.

"Well then, let's kick this off! As usually ladies first!" Slowly she walked to the glass bubble that was on our side. Putting her hand in, she rummaged about a lot and then picked a piece of paper. I held my breath. Holding the paper like it was gold, she walked back to the microphone.

"Remember, this is a historical day," she opened the paper.

"And the first _ever_ female tribute of New England is…Marina Johnson!"

The first thought that came into my head was: _aww shit!_

**What you think? I know you all knew that she was going to be picked but, hey ho, no surprise there! Do you like the idea of 'New England' surviving as well as Panem? **

**Just thought I'd say, I don't own the hunger games but you guys already knew that.**

**x **


	3. Chapter 2: This was unexpected

This was unexpected

"Marina…where's marina…come on honey come up the stage," the rainbow woman still smiled and was searching the crowds with little piggy eyes. I stood still.

"Now where is this child, show yourself," shock had physically parted my lips and kept my mouth in a gaping position. Breathing became my main priority.

In…out…in…out…in…out…in…out…in…out…In…out…in…out…in…out…in…out…in…out…in…out…in….

Out...in…out…in…out…in…out…in…out…in…out…In…out…in…out…in…out…in…out…in…out…in…out

…in…out…in…out…in…out…in…out…in…out…In…out…in…out…in…out…in…out…in…out…in…out…in…

I wasn't shaking but I wasn't still. Cascading in my brain were words such as "_first ever" _and "_tribute"_, completely disorientating me. However it was impossible to miss how the white dressed 'minions' were grasping their guns and edging ever so closer to the group of reapers almost in an eagerly excited manor.

"Marina…" the lady said, her voice showing a little concern and eyes flickering towards the cameras as if to show her embarrassment. Knowing that whatever's going to happen will happen, I slowly raised my hand. Instantly, the rainbow lady latched her eyes onto my hand as she was scanning the crowds.

"Are you Marina?" she pointed her finger at me and I could just feel the cameras following her lead. Every reaper turned to face me, whilst taking a step backwards as if they would be reaped instead of me if they were close. All I did was stand.

"Well, here we have Marina…" concern had completely left her voice and was replaced with…well…joy. Still I stood. There was then silence; was I supposed to do something? For some reason I slightly tilted my head; other reapers came in sight, none were showing any indication of what I should do. Before I had to ask what to do, the rainbow woman spoke.

"C'mon up dear…yes come on, don't be shy how are the camera's supposed to see you from down there?" still I didn't move. Somehow realisation had slithered into my body, upturning my brain into a field of raging emotions, while causing my body to seize up. One reaper in my section gave me a little push, this helped kick-start my movement.

One more breath. A step forward. That was how I exited the sector. When I got to the aisle that divided the girl and boy reapers, the quietness and stillness hit me. Something else which hit me was also how everyone was watching me: the reapers, the crowds, people at home, the Districts and the Capitol, the only person not watching me was…me.

Gulping, I started stepping forward. Each step increased the questions in my mind, every time my foot touched the ground my emotions burst until my mind was brimmed with them, every metre closer to the stairs and stage evoked predictions of my death. When I reached the stairs, I couldn't concentrate on anything except the desperation that congregated in my head. Because I lacked concentration, I hit the first step with my foot, shattering any eloquence I had.

In front of me was the rainbow lady's hand. Her face was smiling, obviously indifferent to my bewilderment or she held no ounce of understanding of human emotions. On past experiences of her…special wording, I would've gone with the latter. Gingerly, I took her hand.

Instantly she pulled me up the stairs and onto the stage, where the microphone was settled. Flamboyantly, her hands showed me off, introducing me to the audience.

"Here we have the female tribute of New England, Marina Johnson," she started clapping, expecting everyone else to. They didn't.

"Well...um…maybe clapping isn't a thing here…let's just carry on! So marina…" again she smiled, what was with the smiling?! "…how do you feel? The first ever tribute…" squealing in excitement, she swayed the microphone to my mouth.

My mouth was dry and fright tingled in my fingers; I didn't know how I could say something. But I did. Stupidly it was the first thing that entered my head.

"…um…well…this was a little unexpected…" was my reply.

"Anything else dear?" In her eyes, were the cravings of a normal answer which wouldn't embarrass her.

Again, I said the first sentence which was strung together in my head.

"…Any volunteers?"

This is when I faced the reapers, all lined up for my sight like little sheep penned into a fence for the Capitol to play with. Some looked me in the eye, with sadness and guilt that I was reaped; that the girl in front of them would be killed. Some of the lady reapers had twitching smiles, obviously from the thoughts of going home. Most of the guys still had glints of nerves in their eyes, one of them still needed to be reaped.

"Well…" rainbow lady interrupted my thoughts "…you're a peculiar little thing," quickly she moved onto the next reaping "…and now for the boys!"

Suddenly I felt the eye of the public leave me but no joy was found in it.

Learning about the hunger games, I had seen plenty of tributes reactions. Some cried, some were overjoyed, some were honoured, some were excited but most were…emotionless. Like they somehow knew this would happen to them and had practised the look. To keep eyes away from the camera's glare because eyes were the window to your workings, for your back to be straight and your posture to be perfect, if asked any questions, keep a solemn voice and simple responses and just mask any emotions which wanted to spurt from your face.

I was scared.

The scared which would haunt you for the rest of your life, stalking you conscience until it took up your whole mind, leaving you to become nothing more than a crazy fool. It felt like when you're walking alone in the dark and then you hear something and you mind jumps to the conclusion that someone's there and about to jump out at you. The only difference was, I knew someone was out there, in the shape of 24 tributes.

The rainbow lady, stuck hand into the bowl. She rummaged around for a while, looking like she was purposely trying to find a specific name. Suddenly her hand shot out. Walking back to the podium, she already started opening it.

"The second tribute for New England and the first ever male tribute is…Jonathan Martin!" Again she clapped. There wasn't an awkward silence because the guy started walking towards the stage with a stern expression and a look that could kill. This persona seemed to push all the boys away from him, creating the parting for 'Jonny' to walk through. I could tell he was a fighter.

Pronounced muscles could be seen under his t-shirt, muscles which could easily break a neck. The way he pounced forward suggested running wasn't a problem, neither was constant walking. Somehow I could just tell he was good with weapons, with panther like quickness plus secure blows and precise calculated movements. All of this should've scared me, but it didn't. It might've been the scared shock or that he would be the only homely sane thing from here on out. But he didn't raise my pulse.

Climbing up the stairs, the rainbow woman didn't help him like she did with me. Probably because he came as soon as he was called.

"Johnathan, what's it like? First male tribute and all," instead of acting like an idiot, Jonathan took it in his stride while keeping a shield up.

"It's interesting, something new," his voice was clear, cutting through the whole audience. All I did was stare at him and how smooth he was being.

"Well I hope it's a good new!" Laughing, she squeezed his shoulder and he gave a quick grin.

"Now we have the very first tributes of New England, who also get to kick start the reaping," she took a step back from the microphone so Johnathan was in sight. To us she whispered "Well go on shake hands."

My hand came out timid but his was strong. Firmly he shook hands with me twice and then let go. After this the woman clapped, as if the handshake had been the highlight of the year. She stepped back towards the microphone.

"With that, I wish you all a happy hunger games and may the odds be _ever _in you favour!"

Before anything else could've happened, two white minions grabbed onto my upper arms and dragged me into the building behind. I wanted to say something but the guns stopped me. Even in their holster they looked threatening and it felt they were staring into me, daring me to try something.

Johnathan and I were split up. I saw two of the white minions drag him into a room, noticing they didn't use as much force on him. Surely, I was the one less likely to try something? I couldn't get annoyed about it as freight still claimed true to my heart but with the continual pain that was being put on my arms, it started to build.

They pulled me through another corridor till they opened a door and shoved me into the room. I fell to the ground.

"Stay in here," one commanded then slammed the door.

Muttering under my breath "…a please would've been nice." I brushed myself of the floor and sank into a sofa which was provided.

Pain and fear lingered in my body; it had been there as soon as my name was called out. Probably not going until I was dead…

Dead. The word lolled in my mind.

Death…

My death…

Dying…

Me dying…

Every variation swung around with my mind, adding to the fear, adding to the fright, petrifying me until I knew I wouldn't be able to get off the sofa. To distract myself I looked at laced netting curtains and started copying the patter of the lace with my finger on my knee. It didn't sooth but it didn't make things worse.

By the time she came, I was in the zone.

"Hello honey," my mother said.

**That wasn't the best of chapters, but it's nearing midnight and I want to publish this so…you know.**

**What did you think? I know it wasn't the most exciting!**

**I might not update in a while due to revision and exams, so sorry about that!**

**X**


	4. Chapter 3: I'm going to be stabbed

I'm going to be stabbed with a potato, while a mutant tentacle thing sucks off my toenail!

The first time she said it, I didn't hear. Drawing the pattern of the lace was all I could think about. The way it guided my finger in sometimes a linear motion and then circular, how the grainy smooth texture jailed the visions of my death and how the movement and texture subsided the hysterical fear that I contained. How could I notice anything else?

Obviously I couldn't. All I did was carry on copying the pattern while she stood there. I think she might've understood that whatever I was doing was helping somehow. But we were on a time limit, so I would have to wait to calm myself.

"Honey?" this time I heard her. Not because she voiced the word to be listened to but because her tones were the only other thing that could've calmed me, apart from the lace.

As soon as the word left her mouth, I stopped tracing the lace. Something about the word 'honey' caused more pain then calmness. Certainly her voice calmed but not that word. Throughout my life, my mother had used 'honey' as a call for me when I was sad; when I was ill or got an injury or when someone upset me, she always used it. So when she adopted the phrase for this occasion, I knew she thought I was going to die.

There was silence between us, but this time she didn't say anything else; she knew I heard her. Gradually my hands drew together, entwining on my lap and my back straightened a little as if I needed to keep the appearance of being fine in front of her. Then finally when I gathered enough composure, I looked up.

There she stood. Images of the little old lady who lived down the road came to mind when I looked at her. Like me, her hands were linked together but a handbag was also thrown into the mix, she was wearing the same outfit (a long skirt, white blouse and a jacket) but somehow it looked different on her, as if my name being called out had caused so much emotion even her clothes were showing it. Wrinkles that I hadn't noticed before suddenly became apparent, and they were the one thing I found most prominent in her appearance. Each part of her was filled with undeniable tension, tension that my reaped presence had caused.

Looking her in the eye, I could see her blue irises were padlocked gates to the waterworks but ever so slowly they were being picked unlocked. She couldn't cry. If she cried, I would cry and even I knew that crying as a tribute flagged you up as weak.

"Hey mum…" my words had trickles of the emotion I felt; confusion seemed to wrap itself around each syllable while sadness nibbled at the endings, trying to choke me up and my fear, so bright and shinning, blasted its way through each word. As ever the bloodhound, my mother detected the feelings.

"Honey…" again the word caused unease "…everything's going to be ok," no it wasn't. How could it be? I was going to die…I…was going…to die…I wanted her to reach out and hold me. Hug me until this all went away. She didn't, instead staying stationary on the spot.

"How…how is this ok?" I asked her. My voice barely dented the silence that was in the room.

"…um…" she kept opening her mouth as if to say something. Nothing came. Each time her mouth started to form words, her voice would disappear. There were no comforting words, or sentimental sentences to remind me of my life, nothing could be said or told to change my fate or make it more tolerable. Nothing. But I still wanted her to say something. Anything.

All she had to do was utter a word; it wasn't like she was the one dying? I was dying. I was the one that would be going into the arena! I was the one going to be killed! I WAS GOING TO DIE! Repetitive screams started inside my mind: _I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die! I'M GOING TO DIE! _Rapidly the screaming escalated until it was all I could concentrate on. _I'M GOING TO DIE! BE KILLED! MURDERED! I'M GOING TO BE TORTURED! I'M GOING TO BE…I'm going to be…to be…_ _I'm going to be stabbed with a potato, while a mutant tentacle thing sucks off my toenail! Wait what? _I asked my brain. The hysterics were idling with my brain, making me crazy. However the sentence broke the spell inside my head.

I took a breath.

To make sure I didn't enter another spell of rhythmic insanity, my hand started tracing the lace again.

"I think you meant, this isn't going to be ok," I tell her.

"No, honey it is going to be ok."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying…"

"Kid yourself all you want mum but we both know I'm dying in that arena…if we like it or not."

"Honey…" an eternal groan erupted due to the overuse of 'honey' "…you might not die. We've all seen those victors that weren't promising contestants and still won…that could be you honey. Just think about it, you could be a victor honey. That could be you honey," I finally lost it.

"STOP IT! Stop calling me honey!" it was at this point that the tears started exiting the gate and pricking at the corner of her eyes. My eyes seemed to shadow hers.

"You're supposed to be saying goodbye…not telling me the day dreams of fantasies!" Again there was silence but this time my mother started moving towards me, making the little ol' lady look disappear. Slowly she sat on the sofa, close to me but not close enough, she took my hands so they were also entwined with hers and then she looked me right in the eye.

"Darl -" The look I gave trapped the 'darling' in her mouth, "Marina…I love you…" every word she spoke was said lightly "…and believe…"carefully said, trying not to upset me "…that you could – can…that you can do this…I truly believe it…truly."

I nodded.

Finally she hugged me and I quickly fell into her embrace, grateful for the comfort. Being in her arms made me think that maybe everything would be alright, that maybe I could win the hunger games, that maybe something would happen making it impossible for me to enter this murder fest. _Yeah right! _The back of my thoughts scoffed.

The hug ended as quickly as it started.

Straightening her outfit, my mother asked, "Do you want to call home?" That question revealed her thoughts as much as 'honey', if I was going to win why would I need to call my family?

Home consisted of four other siblings, my dad and my mum. As a family we weren't the strongest, with our house always being a ruckus due to the twins Toby and Jack, both 7, who seemed to enjoy nothing more than making a mess. But it was still my home. My other siblings were Stacey and Cole, both older than me and past the eligible age for the reaping. They had moved out but were over literally every day. Mum was the leader of the household with her constant planning and schedules. And my dad was the calm mellow one of the family; the man who could fix any problem. _Fix this problem, _I silently asked him in my head.

The thing is I hadn't once thought about them since the reaping began. I hadn't imagined how they were feeling or what they were doing, in fact I had forgotten about them altogether. However, my mum asking that question had forced my mind to acknowledge them and I didn't like what I was seeing. Images of the twins crying, of Stacey and Cole huddled together trying to calm them and dad just sitting down dealing with it, came to me in a blinding fashion. Each time they flashed across my conscience guilt added itself to the variety of emotions I already had. I knew it wasn't my fault but there was a part of me that thought it was still my reaped presence that caused this pain.

"No, I don't want to call them," I answered. It was true. Calling them would mean me breaking down and they needed to think I was strong at the moment, so when I eventually died it wouldn't hit them as hard; they would remember me being me, not a weakling.

Something like shock crossed my mother's face but she swept it under her normal facial expression.

"Ok…if that's what you want, I'll just tell them…you said…hi."

"What?"

"Well…you need to tell them something, you know? So they know that you're alright and that you're thinking about them," to be honest I didn't think I needed to tell them anything, wouldn't it just make it worse? They would think those were my last words to them, and I wouldn't have even said it to their faces! They wouldn't think it in my voice, just my mother's! How was that better?

"I don't know…just say…Toby and Jack can have my room," I wasn't joking but my tone wasn't very serious. My mum disapproved.

"I'm not telling them that!" she said sharply "Being serious…what do you want me to tell them?" I didn't know.

"Goodbye…I guess,"

"I'm not telling them that either. I've already said you can win this, that you will win this!" That's when I realised that a part of my mother actually thought I could do this, that the smallest part of her was kidding herself into believing I could win. Of course there was another bit of her which thought I would die but I was her daughter, I was her flesh and blood, she didn't want me to die so she was believing I wouldn't. Realistically, she was going to realise I would die but at that moment her love for me was blinding it. No wonder she couldn't say goodbye properly.

With this in mind I said, "Hi…say hi."

"Ok…" then she hugged me again.

After the hugging and the threat of tears from both of us, she goes "I love you."

"I love you too mum." I smile at her and she does the same but before we could say anything else, one of the white minions entered the room.

"Time to go," he grabbed my mum by her upper arm and dragged her out the room.

"No…wait, I haven't finished talking to her," she started struggling more but the man's grip just tightened. Just before the door closed she said, "You can do this -"

_I'm never going to see you again, _was my thought when the door closed.

I was left alone.

_**So, any good? Sorry I haven't updated in AGES but I had exams and (as much as I love fanfiction and its utter genius brilliance with chocolate sauce (chocolate sauce makes everything more awesome, for instance 'wow…this piece of bread taste disgusting…oh I know I'll put chocolate sauce on it!' *gets out chocolate sauce from the cupboard* *angles singing in the background* *makes chocolate sauce bread sandwich mess thing and eats* 'wow, this. Is. Amazing!')) Exams are more important. Anyway I know this wasn't very tear jerking sad but I didn't want it to be.**_

_**Please leave reviews (and yes that's kinda me begging) **_

_**x**_


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